


Johnlock

by castieldeansangel



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Johnlock Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-03 05:11:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4088164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castieldeansangel/pseuds/castieldeansangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some one shots, some stories, all Johnlock (each chapter is a different story)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. My John

"So, what do you have for me?" Lestrade asked, he was leaning against the wall outside the room where the bodies of a marriage couple were found that morning, it wasn't a hard case but he wanted to get over it soon because his vacations started the next day, so he called Sherlock, who was inside evaluating the situation and doing what he did best.

"You lied, you said it was an 8 and this is hardly a 4!" Sherlock slammed the door behind him, making Lestrade jump a little and straighten up. 

"Yes, Sherlock, I lied. But, did you get something?" Lestrade knew the detective would get angry, so he had to get him to talk and leave before he started grumbling around.

"Of course I got something, it is utterly obvious. Even you could have solved it!" Greg decided to ignore the insult and push him to tell him what he had found out.

"All right, then. What happened?"

Sherlock sighed, but answered "The man loved his wife, you can see this by the way he tried to do it as fast and painless as possible. The reason he did it was easy: guilt. He cried as he did it, and he had never been a violent person. He was actually a very good husband, until he made a mistake. He fell into temptation, had an affair. He couldn't forgive himself, so he resolved that he had to be punished. He decided that the best punishment would be death, you can see from this that he was a dramatic one. But he couldn't just kill himself and leave his wife here, he loved her too much to let her here all by herself; so he killed her too." Sherlock finished, with a cold look in his eyes.

"Brilliant" Sherlock had never ceased to amaze Lestrade, he was indeed brilliant. "How can you say he was in love?" Greg wanted to leave, but he was curious. 

"He died holding her hand and facing her; he was scared and the only thing that could help was looking at her. There were many other thing in the apartment that demonstrated it, but the most evident part is the one I just explained." Sherlock seemed bored, so Lestrade decided it was time to go. 

"Excellent. Thank you, Sherlock. You can go now." Sherlock walked away as soon as Lestrade finished talking. "He seemed strange" Lestrade thought to himself, but he opted to just let it go as he walked out of the building, Sherlock was always odd.

**

"Why didn't you wake me up?" John asked Sherlock when he arrived to their apartment. He had woken up in the middle of the night and panicked when he taunted the other side of the bed and didn't feel Sherlock's warm body.

"I thought you were tired." His voice sounded colder than usual. Sherlock took his scarf and coat off and left them on the flour, as always. Then he plopped down on his armchair

"I was, but you should have woken me up anyway."

"Sorry."

John sit on his own armchair across from Sherlock's and studied him. He was looking into space, his mind was somewhere else, but his eyes looked sad. 

"What's wrong?"

"What makes you thing something's wrong?"

"We've been together long enough for me to know when something's wrong with you."

"Lestrade called you, didn't he?"

"Yes. Now, answer me. What is it?"

Sherlock sighed and rubbed his forehead with his thumb and his index finger. 

"I'm scared, John."

"Why?" John asked, his voice low and worried.

"I want this to work." He didn't say it out loud, but John knew what  _this_ meant.

"And it will work."

"How can you be sure? That man loved his wife, and it didn't stop him from doing what he did." John pursed his lips and stood up. Sherlock watched him as he walked towards him and sit on his lap. 

"Listen to me." John started, looking at him in the eye. "I know he loved her, and I know what he did. But I'm convinced that I won't do that, you know why?"

Sherlock shook his head.

"Of course you know why. You are Sherlock Holmes! Now, tell me. Why?" John challenged him.

"Because you are not him." Sherlock said simply after a minute of silence. John smiled. 

"That's right. I'm not that man. I'm John, your John." When he said this, Sherlock finally smiled.

"My John."

 


	2. Coward

"Sherlock, don't be such a pussy!"

"John, I'm not a vagina. Why would you call me that?" Sherlock asked him, making a grimace and looking at him as if he was crazy.

"It means, don't be a coward" John rolled his eyes, exasperated.  Sherlock could be so oblivious sometimes.  

"The fact that I don't like public shows of affection doesn't mean that I'm a coward, it just means that I'm reserved."

John sighed, giving up and throwing his arms at the detective. "Fine. I guess we'll have to 'show our affection' here, then."

Sherlock responded immediately, placing his hands on John's waist and putting his lips on John's.

"That's a good idea, Dr. Watson." Sherlock smirked and kissed John passionately.

"In public or not, this is still perfect." John thought to himself as he and Sherlock fell onto the couch. 


	3. Happy, Mrs. Hudson?

"When are you two going to be together?" Mrs. Hudson asked as she gave John his tea. She had showed up in their apartment and they invited her to have tea, which she ended up making. 

"We are not gay." John answered for the millionth time, trying not to sound rude.

"Well, maybe you are not. But our dear Sherlock is, right?" She asked Sherlock this time, handing him the tea. 

Sherlock didn't answer, he just glanced Mrs. Hudson for a moment, then returned his gaze to the window.

"And how do you know this?" John was surely confused.

"Because I accidentally heard him talk the other day with someone who sounded like his boyfriend."

Just as John opened his mouth to ask something else, Mrs. Hudson yelped, causing both Sherlock and John give her a concern look.

"I forgot I invited Mrs. River for tea, I have to go. Good bye." And with this she left of their apartment, closing the door behind her.

"Good bye." Watson shouted, hoping she would hear him. "So..." John was thinking which would be the best way to ask Sherlock about what Mrs. Hudson said, but as always, Sherlock was a step ahead of him.

"Oh, just ask." He growled.

"A boyfriend?" John blurted out, a hint of jealousy in his voice.

"Not exactly." He answered simply, clearly annoyed by the subject, but John wasn't gonna leave it like that, he didn't know anything about Sherlock's love life, he didn't even know he had one. 

"Then a friend with benefits?" 

"Our arrangement is more complicated, but yes, kind of." 

"Oh." John didn't know how to feel or what to say, so he said the first words that came to his mind. "If it's so complicated, why aren't you just boyfriends?" 

Sherlock squinted at him, and John felt uncomfortable,  he had never been bothered by Sherlock's scrutiny before, actually he was quite used to it. But this time was different, there was something he didn't want him to see.

"Because I do not have feelings for him." He replied coldly.

"Then why are you with him?"

"I am not 'with him', I'm not even sure what 'being with him' means. Our relationship is pure sex." He said bitterly.

"Pure sex." John repeated his words as if he was trying to understand them. 

"Yes, John. Pure sex." He gauged his reaction, John's face was at first confused, then he made a grimace and opened his mouth several times, attempting to say something.

"Although, I do have feelings for someone else. That's why I ended our relationship." Sherlock continued when he decided John wouldn't say anything unless he encouraged him.

"Really? You have feelings for someone?" John tried to mock him in a poor attempt to hide his nervousness. 

"Yes, John." Sherlock never lost his composure and John secretly hated him for that.

"May I know who?" John inquired, his hands not able to stay still on his lap.

"Sure, John." Sherlock smiled faintly, standing up from his chair with a swift but delicate movement.

John was too shocked to process what was happening. He only understood the situation until Sherlock's face was centimeters from his.

"John Watson, I have feelings for you and I'm a little bit offended by the fact that you didn't notice before." 

John's mouth hung opened for a while, Sherlock's face still very close to his. He couldn't believe what he had just heard. Sherlock Holmes, the only consulting criminal in the world, the most brilliant, annoying and unique person he had ever know had feelings for him. But he had to ask himself "Do I have feelings for him too?" In that moment he remembered every single time he had been amazed by him and his acts, how he always seemed to be so selfish and self-centered, but how he actually cared about people more than anyone could expect. And he thought "Of course I have feelings for this man!" So he did what he know was the most appropriate thing to do: he closed the gap between their lips.

After a few minutes of kissing, they had to catch their breaths. 

"I think Mrs. Hudson will be very pleased when she knows about this." 


	4. Needing you.

"I want you." John moaned into Sherlock's mouth. It all happened so suddenly... it appeared in his mind like a blur.

_Him being mad at Sherlock about something he couldn't remember. Sherlock seeming totally indifferent and bored. Him telling Sherlock he couldn't do it anymore. Sherlock being confused, taking him by the wrist just before he could open the door to leave. Him turning around and seeing the sadness and desperation in Sherlock's eyes. And the words, it would be impossible for him to forget those words. **I need you.**_

And that had been all, after those words were said, everything else was just letting go. When John remembered his existence and who he was, they were laying on the couch; Sherlock on top of John, nothing hindering their bodies from touching. None of them remembered how they ended up like that, none of them cared.

Thinking wasn't their priority, touching was, also nibbling and caressing. But thinking could wait, everything else could wait. Sherlock's passion and tenderness startled him. He had always thought he would be practical and cold, but he wasn't. In that moment he wasn't embarrassed of admitting he had thought about it a lot. He was incapable of feeling anything else than love, passion and pleasure. 

Sherlock returned to nibbling his neck, John automatically stretched it to give him more room. Sherlock licked, bit and grasped with his teeth every inch of skin he found. John felt he was about to explode, so he did the only thing his clouded mind thought of: beg. "Please, Sherlock. I need you." He inadvertently used the same words Sherlock had before, and that made the taller man quiver. He was impatient to make John finally his, but the right thing was to wait. And John deserved it. 

"Shh..." He soothed him. "I'll make every second of waiting worth it." And with that, he kissed him delicately. Then he lowered his lips, attacking his neck again, he kept going down, kissing his chest, grazing his teeth on his shoulders, sucking at his hipbones. Adoring every part of him, as if he was the most precious thing in existence. But what John didn't know is that he was, for Sherlock he was the most beautiful and magnificent creation in the world.  

When Sherlock though it was time, he levelled himself with John and kissed him, then made a silent question. John understood instantly and nodded. 

"It will hurt." Sherlock cautioned him. John gulped, gathering courage. He looked at Sherlock's face, the beautiful blue in his eyes was gone and replaced by his black pupils. His cheeks were red, just as his neck. His lips were plump and red. He was ready.

"I know it will." Sherlock took it as the permission he needed and brought his fingers to his mouth, wetting them. Then he slowly introduced one inside his lover, he bit his neck to distract him front the pain and the discomfort he knew John was feeling. He remembered his first time and wished with all his heart it had been with John. 

John tried to focus on Sherlock's tongue, leaving a wet trail all over his neck and clavicle. A second finger was introduced, it stung. "It feels odd." 

"I know." Sherlock brought their lips together as he fingered his fingers. Finally, a third finger was inside and soon he was ready.

Sherlock extracted his fingers and placed himself between John's legs. He started moving slowly, trying to make it as painless as possible. He never got his eyes away from John. 

John's breath became erratic, the pain was different from anything he had ever felt, but in some way it was also good. When Sherlock was half way there, he stopped, letting John get used to the feeling. He continued after a moment. Shortly, he was filling John completely. 

"Shall I move now?" Sherlock asked. "Yes." John's voice came strained.

Sherlock obeyed and rocked his hips slowly at first, but his thrusts rapidly became faster, though he was still delicate and fond in some way John could not explain. John's mind was lost, everything had disappeared and the only thing left was the feeling of Sherlock inside him and his eyes, never looking away. The color was long gone, his pupils dilated. He was feeling so much pleasure... "Fuck!" John shouted when Sherlock hit his sweet spot, causing a wave of heat surge in his stomach. Sherlock kept hitting that spot and soon John couldn't handle it anymore. He felt so much bliss he blacked out for a moment, he hardly felt Sherlock coming inside him. When he came back to himself, Sherlock was cleaning himself with a towel, he had already cleaned John, that made him wonder how long he had been unconscious.

"It wasn't long." Sherlock answered, as if he had been reading his mind. "Oh, that's good." He answered, feeling a little bit embarrassed.

Sherlock threw the towel away and laid down next to John, holding him tight. "I love you, John." He confessed, kissing his lover's forehead.

"I love you too, Sherlock."

"I know."


	5. Cock block.

_How the hell did we end up here?_ Watson thought, as a shoe jabbed into his ribs, returning him to reality. 

"Are you okay, John?" Sherlock looked at him worried, brow furrowed. 

"Yes." John took his jaw and made their lips meet again. 

They were on the floor, kissing and grinding against each other. The hadn't been _together_ in a long time, all because of those murders! Some guy had been killing elder people all over London, he was very smart and knew how to cover his tracks. At first, Sherlock thought it would be an easy case, hence it would be boring. But it hadn't gone that way, the leads took them nowhere and someone else was murdered. It took almost two weeks to catch him. The case had indeed been a puzzling one, but nothing was impossible to Sherlock Holmes. (John would totally roll his eyes at this!).

So, yes, they were a bit desperate. That's why when Lestrade called Sherlock he didn't answer. Not the first time, nor the second one, and certainly not the other fifteen times. Probably that's the reason he went to their apartment. With a warrant for a drug search. 

"Open up, Sherlock!" Lestrade's voice came from outside, interrupting the moment.

"Go away, Lestrade!" Sherlock shouted, his irritation showing in the words. 

"I won't unless you come with me. There's a case." 

"It's okay, we can continue later." John murmured, kissing Sherlock's nose. 

"No." Sherlock stated firmly. 

"Sherlock Holmes, if you don't open this door we'll knock it down. I have a warren." The detective inspector menaced. 

"A warrant? Why for? Please, don't say drug search, that's overused!" Sherlock mocked him, making Lestrade lose his temper. 

"Fine, you asked for this!" 

"No, wait!" John blurted, suddenly "He'll go. Just... wait."

"Okay, he has five minutes!"

John exhaled loudly and got up, Sherlock following him. 

"Why did you do that?" Sherlock was surely annoyed, his lips were pursed and he had a frown. _Cute_ , John thought. 

"Because I didn't want them to get in and see us lying on the floor  _half naked"_ He emphasised the last words, then picked up his clothes from the floor.

"Why not? It would have been their fault."

John stopped in the middle of putting on his shirt and gave him a stunned look. 

"Sherlock, not all of us are as confident with our body as you are." 

"I don't understand, John. You have a beautiful body." He was shocked by those words for a minute, then he blushed and kissed Sherlock to hide it. 

"Two minutes!" Lestrade interrupted a wonderful moment _again._

John rolled his eyes but finished getting dress. 

"Let's go." He called Sherlock, opening the door.

"Cock block." He whispered as he passed by Lestrade, who was leaning on the door frame. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, my God! I love writing these, I really hope you enjoy reading them!


	6. Puns

"Did I tell you about the case I worked on today?" Sherlock asked John as he was making tea.

"No, what happened?"

"Well, the whole left side of a man was cut off."

"Oh, my God." John said, leaving what he was doing and turning toward Sherlock.

"Don't worry. He's all right now!"

John looked at him, shocked. "Did you just... made a pun?"

"Yes. I would have told you a chemistry joke, but I know I wouldn't get any reaction."

Sherlock smiled lightly while John just stared at him.

"Sherlock."

"Yes, John?"

"Who told you about this?"

Sherlock didn't answer right away, John just crossed his arms and waited.

"Lestrade said..."

"I'm gonna kill him."


	7. Baking.

"You are doing it wrong!" 

"No, I'm not!"

"Yes, you are!"

Sherlock looked at him, angry. "This is the only way it can't be done."

"No, it is not."

"This is very simple, how could I do it wrong?" 

"That's exactly what I'm asking myself, HOW?" That earned John a scowl from Sherlock, and also a growl. John smiled tenderly, God, Sherlock got really irritated when he couldn't do something. 

"If I'm so useless, then why don't you do it yourself?" Sherlock pouted and that made John's heart melt for a moment, he looked like a scolded child. 

"Oh, you are not useless!" The shorter man took a some whipped cream with his index finger and smeared it on the other one's nose. 

Sherlock glanced his nose, then he glared at John. "You have no idea of what you just did, do you?" His tone made John widen his eyes. 

"Uh... put a stain of whipped cream on your nose?" He asked with a little smile. 

"No. You just started a war." And with that, Sherlock took a flour heap and threw it to John. Watson's reflects were good, so he dodged it. 

The ex soldier grinned as he took the open bottle of vainilla and poured it on Sherlock's shoes. 

"A war I'll surely win."


	8. Insecure

They were cuddling together on their new bed, having a nap after a busy day unpacking their things.

"I like your tummy." Sherlock murmured against John's ear while caressing his belly.

"Are you mocking me for being fat?" John said a bit on the defensive. 

"No, John. You know I would mock anyone but you." 

John didn't say anything, just lay down, Sherlock could feel him tense in his arms. 

"What is it love?" He knew what was wrong, but wanted John to tell him anyway. 

"I know you've already figured it out." John said plainly. 

"Look at me." Sherlock commanded, loosening his grip on John. 

The shorter man sighed and turned to face Sherlock, knowing how stubborn he could be. 

"You are the most beautiful person I've ever laid my eyes on. And you know I have no reason to lie about this." He said looking at him in the eye, his words sounding completely sincere. 

"I love you, Sherlock." John smiled with affection at the detective. 

"I love you." The other returned, kissing his forehead. 


	9. Fight

Schubert Quintet in C, D 956. John recognized the song almost immediately, he had gathered some knowledge thanks to Sherlock, so he could recognize almost every Chopin, Rossini, Bach and other's compositions. That night it was undoubtedly Frank Schubert, it was one of John's favourites. Still, he didn't like it that time. He would have hate anything at 3 a.m. Why? Because he was a normal person. Sherlock wasn't, there was no doubt of this, but his obliviousness never stopped bothering him anyway. Regardless of his love for the detective, he could still feel, see and _hear._ So he was indeed annoyed when he couldn't sleep because of his _beloved_ Sherlock and his strange habit of waking up in the middle of the night to play the violin. "Why doesn't he just go for a snack or something?" Watson groaned, sluggishly while stumbling toward the door. "Masturbate in the middle of the night, I don't care. Just something quiet!" Sherlock was right, he was always grumpy when he was tired. 

"What is your problem?" The svelte and delicate figure placed in front of the window turned around. Sherlock looked like something you only see in your best dreams, always unreachable and perfect. Disheveled, black curls, some covering his eyes and pale face that seemed almost silver thanks to the moonlight seeping from the window. _Needs a haircut_ John made a mental note. 

That eyebrow, that bloody eyebrow was raised once again, in a silent mock. "Do I look like someone who has a problem?" John sighed, frustrated. The effect of Sherlock's beauty (John would never admit he thought about it like this) was rapidly overshadowed by his arrogance. "You really don't want me to answer that." Someone had to put that genius in his place (he also wouldn't admit he called him a genius) and, in his opinion, he did a pretty good job. The taller man left the violin on the table and John thought he had won. "What do you need, John?" A hint of disgruntlement hidden in his words. "To sleep, which I've heard is quite necessary for living." The bitterness in his words did nothing to Sherlock, he didn't even flinch. "Then, sleep." It took all of John's patience and counting to ten five times not to lunge at him. "I would, if some idiot wasn't making noise in my apartment." _Since when h_ _ad the living room always felt so tense?_ John wondered. "Maybe you should throw out that idiot, if he bothers you so much." Words as sharp as a sword, but, as unbelievable as it sounded, much more painful. "Maybe I should." No, that's not what he meant to say. He didn't want Sherlock far from him, his bed, yes, that's where he wanted him. 

Turning around, picking up his mess, not even a peek in his direction, not a good sign. "Sherlock..." Nothing. "Sher?" Not even a glance. "Love?" A loud exhale, but just that. 

 _Enough._ Three steps and Sherlock finally looked at him. "I'm leaving." And God if those words didn't make John's heart break! But he somehow managed to control himself and say without stuttering. "No, you are not." A curious look is what he had been expecting, but he had never been so disappointed in his life as in that moment, the only thing he got from Sherlock being a blank expression. _Don't cry John, just don't._ A kiss, kisses always worked. He pressed his lips against Sherlock's, not getting a response, he didn't even pull back, just stood there like a statue. _Don't cry, John. Oh, what did I just say!_ A single tear crossed his face until it reached his cheek, then a white and fine thumb wiped it. John's gaze fixed on Sherlock's face, which was only inches from his now. His lower lip was trembling and there was something in his eyes that he could only read as guilt _._  "I'm sorry." His voice cracked, and that, mixed with his rueful appearance got John. Sherlock pulled him close in an embrace and he rested his head on the crook of his neck. "I'm sorry, love." The taller man repeated over and over, even though John had already forgiven him. 

And no, Sherlock didn't stop playing in the middle of the night. Although, that doesn't mean nothing changed. He got an audience. It was composed by just one person. But he didn't care if just a pair of ears enjoyed his music, because those ears belonged to John, the most important person in his life. And John was the best public, he never interrupted, just sat there, worshipping the love of his life and his mad ideas. 

 


End file.
